


Never Was Good With Feelings

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: That Guy with the Glasses/Channel Awesome
Genre: Crossdressing, F/F, Grief, To Boldly Flee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 10:53:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1602587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nella tries to take the Chick's mind off of certain things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Was Good With Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> Written for RobynTheRed's Secret Santachrist request!

“Nella, where are you taking me?” The Nostalgia Chick was letting herself be dragged down the hall by her ever faithful BFF-with-benefits. She didn't really see the point of trying to escape, but to be honest, she didn't really see the point of doing much of anything. She hadn't, for the last few weeks. 

“Just to my room,” Nella said breezily, or at least in an attempt at sounding breezy. 

“Is this gonna be some kind of weird sex... thing?” The Chick tried not to trip as she was pulled around a corner at a pace that wasn't exactly jogging but wasn't exactly walking either. She noticed, in a somewhat detached way, that Nella was wearing a huge, all concealing trench coat. She wondered, vaguely, what exactly was being concealed. 

“Not everything is about sex,” Nella huffed, and she stopped in front of one room, the Chick more or less plowing into her. 

“Only if you're not looking at it right,” the Chick said, rolling her eyes, and it took effort not to get huffy herself. 

“Just... come in and sit down.” Nella pushed the door open. It squeaked in a way that would be ominous in a scary movie, but was just kind of annoying in the here and now. It was indeed Nella's room, complete with slightly messy bed and a few odds and ends strewn about the floor.

The Chick, not seeing the point of arguing, did as instructed, sitting on the edge of the bed, tucking her socked feet under her knees. 

“What's going on?” She rested her elbows on her knees, not really paying attention. After the... mess with the Plot Hole, she'd been feeling more... subdued. Kind of like she was stuck under a big wool blanket, or walking through a fog. Not sad, exactly – just not... all there.

There was a new feature in the room – an old wooden table, probably stolen from one of the innumerable storage rooms scattered about the huge, ramshackle old hotel that was TGWTG headquarters. It was a few feet away from the bed. The Chick eyed it, confused and nonplussed, not entirely sure why. 

A flurry of movement in the corner of her eye made the Chick turn, and she raised an eyebrow, because she wasn't sure what else to do. “Seriously?” 

Nella had shrugged off the coat. She was wearing a white t-shirt, a blazer, and a tie. As the Chick watched, she reached into the pocket of her jeans and took out a familiar black cap, placing it on her head. She moved to the chair behind the table, and she sat down, hands folded in front of her. 

“Hello, I'm the Nellastalgia Critic. I remember it so you don't have to!” Nella was practically beaming, a bright, shining “ain't I a stinker?” kind of grin.

The Chick wasn't sure what she was feeling, because she was bad at feelings. But she felt it under her collarbone, between the links of her spine, and on the back of her neck. It was hot and tight and tasted like metal. 

“What are you doing?” The Chick felt her fists balling up at her sides, and she didn't know _what_ she was feeling, only that it was making her feel something like rage and something like pain and something like tenderness, and the whole combination was making her head spin. 

“Today I'm going to reviewing Animorphs. Because a shitty television show based on a downright _weird_ book series is totally nostalgic, right?” Nella was doing a decent approximation of the Critic's voice – she even had the hand gestures down. 

“Nella, did you even read Animorphs?” The Chick shifted on the bed, still out of sorts and confused. 

“The Animorphs novels were written by K.A. Applegate, and let me tell you, they were fucking strange! They were all about war, fighting, colonialism, xenophobia... you know, for kids!” Nella gave a big, cheesy thumbs up, either not hearing or intentionally ignoring the Chick. 

“No, Nella, really, what's going on?” The Chick stood up, walked around the table, and put her hands on Nella's shoulders, forcing the other woman to look her in the face. 

The light reflected off of Nella's glasses like something out of the creepier sort of anime, but it was still Nella's familiar brown eyes staring back at her, looking worried.

“Well, I mean... you miss him,” Nella said in her own, slightly nervous voice. “And I thought you might wanna... you know, see him again. Or at least a facsimile thereof.” 

The Chick fisted the thick material of Nella's blazer, biting her lip. She could feel more of the stupid tears trying to spill out anyway. 

“You're not him,” she said stiffly, shifting from one foot to the other. 

“I'm sorry,” Nella said awkwardly, and she made to stand up.

The Chick wasn't really thinking when she bent down to kiss Nella – she usually didn't think about her more impulsive decisions anyway, and right now she didn't really want to think about anything. But she kissed Nella, grabbing her by the stupid tie and forcing her closer. Without noticing, she'd moved the chair back, and then she was straddling her somewhat awkwardly, the tips of her socked toes brushing against the floor. 

Nella was kissing her back, fingers tangling in the Chick's pigtails. There was wetness on Nella's face, and it had been rubbed there from the Chick's own tears. It was salty and it was thin, but was it sweat (it was hot in the room – there were stray hairs sticking to the Chick's face and neck) or was it tears? The Chick wasn't going to investigate – she was going to concentrate on the softness of Nella's lips, the heat and wetness of her tongue, and the texture of Nella's hair under the Chick's fingers. 

“You're not him,” the Chick mumbled, and it felt like she was trying to press closer, breast to breast and belly to belly, one hand on the stupid tie, the other sliding from Nella's hair down her back, under the jacket, under the t-shirt, feeling skin over muscle over bone, sweat and hair and heat. “I don't want you to be him.” 

“Not even for a little while?” Nella leaned back in the chair, her eyes drifting shut as the Chick pulled the blazer open, pushed her shirt up, and pulled her bra down, all in a very short amount of time. 

The Chick leaned back to admire her handiwork, smiling a bit in spite of herself. Since the business with the Plot Hole, she hadn't exactly been interested in anything particularly... amorous, but the way the dark red tie was framed by Nella's breasts was just... a variety of adjectives fought for supremacy in her head, but all of them seemed a bit too cheesy. Delicious. Gorgeous. Sexy. She took a breast in each hand, squeezing them almost roughly, and she moved to watching Nella's face as she kneaded, twisting her nipples between her fingers. 

“Well, admittedly, the Critic is rather missing in that... department,” Nella more or less gibbered, and the Chick smiled, an honest to god smile, because she had forgotten the way the Nella babbled when she was excessively horny. She hadn't really thought of anything fun recently. She hadn't thought of much of anything. 

“You've got nicer tits than he did, what can I say?” The Chick leaned down, nearly falling over, one hand on the table, the other holding Nella's breast up to her face. She licked it, rasped her tongue along the point of the nipple, nipped gently. Her hand was kneading at Nella's breast, then at her side, nails raking up and down Nella's back.

“Oh fuck, yes, please, yes....” Nella's head was thrown back and the Chick let go of her nipple (nearly overbalancing in the process, because cheap kitchen chairs really aren't made for two people, let alone two people moving... vigorously. 

“Please what?” The Chick looked at Nella through her eyelashes, and she felt her arousal, but mainly she felt quiet. The whatever-it-was feeling from earlier was being covered up by something else, something hot and wanting, and she practically dove into it. Metaphorically. 

“I don't know, don't do that now,” Nella grumbled, and she squirmed under the Chick, her knees almost bouncing. 

“Don't do what now?” The Chick got up off of Nella's lap, much to Nella's displeasure, judging by the annoyed face she made. 

“The... sexy call and answer... thing,” Nella mumbled. “What are you doing?”

“Get on the table,” the Chick said, stepping back enough for Nella to have room to stand up. “And I'm not doing the sexy call and answer thing.”

“Well, obviously now you're not,” Nella said, and she got onto the table, somewhat unsteadily. The Chick could see the way Nella's knees were shaking. 

“Are you really that worked up?” The Chick moved to stand between Nella's legs, thighs on either side of the Chick's hips.

“It's been a while, okay?” Nella was blushing, and the expression was so similar to the Critic's that the Chick felt something in her chest catch, like she'd been punched in the gut. She covered up the moment of... weakness, or sentiment, or whatever by leaning forward again, pressing her face between Nella's breasts, grabbing the tie as some sort of anchor, her fingers twisting Nella's nipples, her mouth leaving cruel, dark hickeys along Nella's chest, up her left breast. 

“Apparently,” the Chick said, somehow keeping her voice dry as she slid her hand down between Nella's legs, pressing down through her jeans. She could feel the tacky stickiness, almost _slimy_. 

“Hey, you've been... busy,” Nella said, and somehow things were awkward again, and the Chick didn't want to think about that – she had been ignoring it for a good long while, and now wasn't the time to start back. 

“Well, it's a good thing I'm not busy now, huh?” The Chick kept her tone light as she pulled Nella's jeans open, pushing them down. “Although if you really wanted to play the Critic, you should've remembered to um....” She trailed off, grabbing at the waistband of Nella's panties and yanking them down, forgetting about finesse or subtlety, thinking only that she'd missed this, and she'd forgotten that. She'd forgotten the missing, and she'd forgotten about what the pit of arousal yawning in her belly did to her – the way her hands shook, her palms sweating, her knees weak, her clit babbling desperate Morse code messages up to her brain. 

“Indeed,” Nella said, her voice somewhat awkward, her hands holding on to the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white. “Although if you keep trying to make this witty banter shit a thing, I'm going to kick you.”

“Huh?” The Chick kissed the inside of Nella's right thigh, a wet drooling kiss, her tongue swirling over the hot, soft skin. “What witty banter shit?”

“Shut up,” Nella mumbled, grabbing at the Chick's hair and twisting it around her fingers. “Please, I missed you, and this, and I don't... I don't know if I can take much more, before I explode or implode or _something_.” She did something wriggly with her hips, and the Chick's face was pressed forward, musky stickiness right against her nose.

“Okay, okay, geez,” the Chick mumbled, but it was a half hearted mumble. She was more interested in using her tongue for other things. More specifically, for rasping it across Nella's clit, just to feel her tense and gasp under her. 

The Chick lost time for a bit after that – little bits and snapshots stood out, but time was quiet and decided to take a hint for a change, and only popped its head in now and again to check up on everyone. Metaphorically speaking. The Chick didn't know where the metaphor came from, or why her brain was focusing on it in the first place, because her fingers were inside of Nella, and her thumb was pressing down on Nella's clit, and she could see the way Nella's whole body was tensing, a light sheen of sweat over her whole body. 

Nella came the same way that the Chick always remembered, with much shaking and gasping and muscle twitching. The Chick was surprised at how quickly it happened, but then again... well, it had been a while, apparently. And Nella looked so much like herself, the hat fallen off, the tie tossed to one side, the jacket gone by the wayside. The Chick felt... something, something other than the muscles squeezing and gripping her fingers, something other than the pounding arousal, and she made a noise that might have been a sob and what might have been a sigh. 

“Are you okay?” Nella looked at the Chick between her breasts, her eyes still not entirely focusing. 

“Yeah,” the Chick mumbled, removing her fingers carefully and leaning over to kiss Nella on the mouth. “Although... I like you as you better.” She sighed again, heavier – she could feel the gray nothingness on the edges of her consciousness, and it scared her, but there was some hope, if she could push it to the side even for a little bit. “Also, if you want to be him, you should actually, you know, have a dick.”

“I didn't come with one pre-installed,” Nella groused, pulling the Chick closer to her, making the Chick more or less sprawl out on the table beside her. It creaked, somewhat ominously. 

“That's why we were given strap ons,” the Chick said in her best Sarah Palin impression. 

“Given, ha!” Nella rolled her eyes. “I had to pay for mine!” Then her expression softened. “It's good to have you back,” she said softly, one hand tucking a piece of hair behind the Chick's ear. 

“Thanks,” the Chick said awkwardly, and she looked away, her face turning pink. She wasn't entirely sure why, but she never had been good with feelings.


End file.
